


Ay, Zandunga

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episodic Fic, Gen, Lots of OC's, alternate season four, everybody gained something from the nemeton, mexican heritage, post columbine mythology, precolumbine mythology, scott mccall is a true alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills is rattled by the body found in the middle of the lacrosse field. The local police department and the FBI start working together trying to piece who could be responsible of it. Scott decides to accept the help from his godmother, even if he fears that would only result in more problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my third episode of my alternate season four!
> 
> First and always, thanks for taking time to stop by and read this little plot bunny that started about six months ago. And now it's taken a life of its own, I guess?
> 
> This is a very episodic series, so it will be tough if you want to just jump in. 
> 
> A billion thanks to my beta, lightningrani, because she is wonderful and you all need to read her Lydia fics. 
> 
> And just a little trigger warning: there is something in this episode that looks horrible. It is, it was written with that purpose, but trust me, it's not going to disappear. It has huge consequences in the story. 
> 
> And as always, thanks for stopping by and saying hi!

Nina Patil didn't like working at her family's store. It was a store for geeks, and she was trying to rise in the school social strata, so she could not be associated with them. Even if the most popular guys this year had been last year's geeks, but then again, nobody could deny the transformation Scott McCall had gone through after last year's first lacrosse game - into Scottie McHottie. All the girls in her year wanted him, and they were all sure the way into the cusp of social power in Beacon Hills was getting into his clique - where the Queen Regent of Beacon Hills, Lydia Martin, ruled. 

They all wondered who was dating who in that circle. She was sure Allison Argent - Scott's ex - and Isaac Lahey - Scott's roommate - were dating, and wondered how awkward was that. Lydia Martin was not dating anyone - but everybody knew she was close to Scott McCall. Even if Lahey sometimes made moony eyes for _him_. The Stilinski dork (and why would they keep him around? McCall should've dropped him like a hot potato back when he dated Allison Argent!) had been rumoured to be dating a girl who died last November, one of those Warrens that had been on the news. Danny's boyfriend had died horribly - they all knew that, in the mall's parking lot. So there were basically no entry points from the boyfriend point of view - she was _not_ going to date Stilinski - so she had to approach the friendship point of view. 

She was not taking any classes with any of them - she was a sophomore, and school was not that important so of course she was not taking any advanced classes - but she was fairly active in the clubs department. Drama, of course - she was going to become a famous actress in Hollywood - and cheerleading, even if their squad sucked, at least it gave her access to the lacrosse competitions. She had tried to get Finstock to organize cheerleaders/first line players getaways, but Finstock lived in his own world and never had an attention span bigger than his whistle. She was decent with the piano, but honestly, being part of the band - or orchestra, apparently - required more than that, and befriending Danny could be accomplished just by talking to him. Lydia Martin was part of the prom organizing committee but you needed to be a junior or senior to get there. And Scottie McHottie worked for the vet so outside lacrosse he didn't have any other extra curricular activities. 

Yes, Stilinski was the organizer of both the MMORPG and the LARP clubs but she was not approaching _that_ geek. 

Even though, technically, she'd have the advantage field with him. After all, her father sold swords, and her mother was a weapons expert specialized in Indian weaponry. 

It was a store for geeks. Maybe she could convince him to come over, bring all of them and try to become their friend that way?

"Excuse me, miss?"

A customer had been hanging around with an aluminum business case for a while, admiring the weapons on display, and spending particular time at some of the armors. (She could identify easily which ones were completely anatomically correct - only one - and which ones were just for show - the other four, acquired to entice the cosplay community.) She thought he looked hella fine, with his white suit and flawless skin, even if she was never fond of curly hair. 

She also thought the man was a douche since he wouldn't take his sunglasses off - mirrored aviators. 

"Welcome to Patil Collectibles. How may I help you?"

"I was wondering if you could direct me to a weapons expert? I need some articles to be appraised, and while I understand this is mostly a collectibles store, some of your articles seem to be of excellent consideration, which makes me believe you _do_ know someone who specializes in blades."

"We do have a person in house. She's on the back. If you don't mind giving me a second?"

"No, miss. Go ahead."

Most adults called her 'girl', or 'dear', or 'honey', and Nina hated it. At least this man was corteous enough to call her 'miss'. She liked that. 

"Mom?" Her mother usually stayed on the back, scouting deals over ebay or updating their catalogues. Her father was out that day - he was picking up from San Francisco, and he would get there Friday, right for the Cyclones game. Where McCute and his clique would be playing. 

"Yes, Nina?"

"Sorry."

"Boys again?"

"No - there's a man at the counter, says he wants to have something appraised?"

Her mother raised and walked with her. The man had placed the aluminum briefcase on the counter, waiting for them to open it.

"Rati Patil."

"Teofilo Carvallo. My pleasure." The man not only took Nina's mother's hand but kissed it while bowing slightly. Nina knew her mother was above such compliments - she may smile at them, but it would not swage them to give a bigger appraisal. "I was wondering if you could help me. These have been in the family vault for generations now, and we were wondering what to do of them."

"It will be a pleasure, Mr. Carvallo, but I'm afraid I need you to take your glasses off. The store has CCTV, and for weapon appraisal, full identification is required."

"Oh, I apologize." The man took the glasses off, and Nina couldn't help but marvel at the green eyes behind them. They looked like those lakes they had visited once in Cancun, when they had all gone to celebrate her brother's high school graduation. He also took his wallet out and gave her mother his ID, which she checked. Satisfied, she returned it and opened the clasps of the case.

"My lord!" The man smiled, as if the epithet had been directed to him, but said nothing. In the case a set of three daggers were carefully wrapped by foam, glinting black and green. "These, sir, are amazing."

"I thought so. We were going through our things and thought some may be of value, and some may be sent to some museums."

"Well, you could definitely do either with these. Would you like to come to the back? That way we would not be interrupted. Nina, close the shop."

"Yes, mom."

The man - Teofilo - smiled as she went to the front door. She was suddenly glad she didn't have to sit through her mother's appraisals anymore. 

He looked like a cat smiling at a mouse that he wanted to eat.


	2. Scott

"Everybody stand back!"

Scott was still trying to shake the fog out of his head - something had made him so focused on the game he hadn't felt the magic at play. Neither had Danny, whose eyes were open like saucers, nor Stiles, who had ran after his father and now was puking his innards on the field. 

More than half the town was there, and they were all running, screaming, in a panic - or they were looking at the altar in the middle of the field, taking pictures and video with their cellphones, and Scott wondered how many would see it on Youtube before the end of the hour. 

He wanted to get close and get a good whiff, but he didn't want to attract attention to himself. Someone had already called for 911 for they could hear the sirens in the background. He saw Derek grabbing Stiles by the shoulders and dragging him to Scott, who immediately grabbed him and hugged him, an alpha comforting his beta wolf. 

"Stiles, breathe. Breathe!"

"She's alive. She's alive."

"What?"

The girl's eyes were unfocused, but she blinked - she had been drugged before her heart had been carved out of her body. She was dying, true, but she had seen her murderer. 

"Danny, what do you see?"

The goalie closed his eyes, and when he opened them, a silver glint shone in his iris. 

"Clouds." He looked at the sky - and yes, the moon was barely visible. "Hummingbirds."

Scott tried to see them, but with the red in his eyes he could only see a butterfly that got lost among the people. He didn't know if that was important, so he filed it away, and focused on the task at hand.

"Everybody's seen this. Everybody knows that something fucked up just happened." Isaac was looking at the crowd, trying to make sure nobody was paying attention to them. Some were - those who knew about the supernatural - but most weren't. 

"They will find ways to justify it. Scott's dad will - the government doesn't want the people at large to know, remember?" Scott kept rubbing Stiles' back, his words interrupted by heaves. "But this will be messy."

Cops and paramedics were in the scene. The rest of the pack moved towards him.

"Mom?"

"The woods don't know anything. Whatever did this is beyond their level."

"Lydia?"

"I didn't wail for her - I wanted to break the spell that was going through the game."

"Guys, I'm asking if you are OK!"

"Well, we are alive." Erica deadpanned. "But except for the fact that the game was enchanted, we didn't see anything - she just appeared."

"There is magic all over the field. This happened for a long time." Lydia moved her hands around. 

"What?" Isaac asked.

"The whole game. The whole game had changed." Allison kept looking around everywhere, trying to see what was out of place.

"But it was just lacrosse?"

"It wasn't - Lydia, tell them."

"You stopped scoring."

"Why would that be a problem?"

"Because scoring is what drives the game. It's not unheard of, stalling, but it's not a tactic widely used - and not a tactic we discussed with Finstock." Danny looked at Lydia now. "What else did you notice?"

"The ball never touched the ground in the last quarter."

"So we were playing a different game."

"Anyone from the other team?" Derek already had his attention on the other kids, but from what Scott could see, they were even _more_ terrified of what they were seeing. 

"No. They are scared. They've never seen something like this before."

"Well, neither have we!" Stiles seemed at the verge of a panic attack so Scott focused on him.

"Stiles, breathe."

"Who is she?"

"She's a sophomore. She asked about the prom committee, I had to tell her that it's only juniors and seniors. Nina, I think?" Lydia looked like she was guilty for not remembering her.

"Does anyone know her family?"

"Scott, stop - that's something John and I will take care of. Right now we need to make sure no more attention is put into this. Where's Finstock?"

"I'm here Mrs. McCall - I just talked to the Sheriff, and I need all the team in the lockers RIGHT NOW." Finstock had made his usual yelling for everyone to see, but immediately lowered his voice to them. "Go inside. I'll make sure it's Stilinski who takes your testimonies. I don't even know if everybody will stay to give a declaration. Go!" They all did, Scott still carrying Stiles, and Finstock right behind them. In the locker room the whole team assembled: Huey was hugging Dewey, who seemed to be trembling in shock. 

"Coach, you can't keep us here."

"I know, and I won't. I just want to make sure none of my players were harmed - and if you want to give a declaration to the cops, I want you to do it in here, away from the ruckus."

"Well, we are not staying. Come on, Diego, let's go." Dewey nodded and let himself be carried by his brother. Scott worried about them, but he had another role to play. 

"How's everybody else?"

"We're fine, dude. Stilinski is dying, apparently."

"You - you didn't get close enough -"

"And why would I? What were you thinking?"

"Nico, stop." Scott tried very hard not to use his eyes on the kid, he was just scared. It was enough to separate them. 

"Everybody calm down!" They all sat down, the pack all around him, and they waited for the Sheriff to show up. He and one of the new deputies showed and took a statement from each of them, even if they were all similar in nature: they were playing, they were too focused on the game, they heard a scream and suddenly that _thing_ was in the middle of the field. No one knew how it appeared or where it had come from. 

Scott was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And sure enough, there it was, coming through the front door in the form of his father. 

Agent McCall started taking statements from all the present _on top_ of the ones the Sheriff had taken, and was very cross whenever anyone tried to ask him questions. He did try to appease the rest of the players and sent them home. They all got out and found everybody else - they had already given their statements. 

"McCall! McCall!"

Scott turned to see Karahalios coming to him. Automatically all the pack took their positions behind him, including his own mother and her knights - and Peter, who had come out of nowhere to stand next to Lydia. 

"What was that?"

"We don't know. Do you?"

"What? No - I have no idea." At the face Stiles seemed to make at him, Karahalios retorted, "I may be old, Fool, but it's not like it's a small world, no matter what Disney wants you to believe. I've seen human sacrifice - hell, I've been human sacrifice - but nothing so, well, _gross_."

"Do not insult it - it was murder, yes, but it was a ritual. Old Gods were summoned, and they are listening." Peter's voice, usually aloof and playful even after becoming Lydia's pet now sounded strained and concerned. 

"I don't care if freaking Persephone decides to walk behind me and tell me I ought to go with her to Hades, I want to know what's going on!"

"Why?"

"Because you'll need my help, damn it!"

"Is it freely given?" Lydia asked. Karahalios screamed in frustration.

"Who've you dealt with, that you are so wary of me? I can't even do much to you - I am still _human_!"

"I am fae, Karahalios, as you well know - I deal in favors, and I need to know your price."

Karahalios looked like he wanted to answer but Mrs. Murrieta was coming towards them. Scott yelled her name, to signal the immortal they had company. 

"Is everything OK here? I thought you had all been dismissed?"

"We are leaving. Come on everybody!"

They all departed. Scott looked back just once, and saw Mrs. Murrieta leaving as well. 

He also saw Karahalios staring at them, his eyebrows frowned.


	3. Danny

"Mom! Mom - I need to be with the pack. It's the safest where I can be."

"Daniel Mahealani! Do not raise your voice to me!" Danny was on his cellphone - Derek was driving him, Erica and Boyd back to the manor - trying to convince his mother to not force him to go back home. "I just saw the video on Youtube, do not tell me not to worry!"

"I am not telling you not to worry, Mom, I'm telling you I'm the safest with the pack! We don't know if the protections that are at home are enough, and you know that the magic of the woods envelops the house."

"Well, the magic of the woods didn't help that girl!"

"Mom, don't do that!"

He could hear her mother sighing, and he prayed for her grandpa to talk her into reason. He heard the phone changing hands.

"Danny?"

"Grandpa, please tell mom I'm fine. And that I need to be here."

"I understand, Danny. Go, help your pack. Let us know if you need anything."

"I will. Please, make her understand."

"She understands. She just wishes she could protect you still. You're her little boy, you know that."

"I know..."

"Take care, Danny. And make sure to come as soon as your father is back."

"I will."

He hung up and looked out front. Nobody in the car said anything, even if he was sure they'd heard everything. 

He was looking for the hummingbirds he'd seen in the lacrosse field, but now he couldn't see anything. It had started raining, but the rain was completely natural - or at least, the moon couldn't see anything special about it. He wasn't sure the rain was enough to disperse the birds, but then again, it was not hummingbird season in California. 

Everybody was arriving in their cars to the manor, and they went straight to the kitchen. Derek and Boyd started making food for everybody, while Mrs. McCall was looking over Stiles who seemed to have recovered, but was still jittery from what he'd seen. Danny didn't want to dwell on the idea - someone who had their beating heart carved out. It was just too -.

"Stop thinking about it." Scott was looking at him, and had his eyes up. Maybe it was too obvious how he was grossed by it. "So, what do we know?" Scott now addressed the group - thirteen people plus Peter, who never seemed to count. 

"Well, it was a sacrifice. It involved magic, and it used the lacrosse game as a ritual, since according to Lydia we were no longer playing." Isaac had grabbed a mug of hot cocoa and sat next to Allison.

"Karahalios said that there was just too much magic involved, but we couldn't detect it until he clapped three times?"

"That's how he can dispel energy. He did it when we were trapped by the Warren henchmen. That's how he could tell we were unable to leave the mall. But back then he had an inkling of the magic going on."

"So this is more powerful." Scott seemed to be trying to draw conclusions. It was too early. 

"It was an offering." Peter spoke. Lydia nodded at him so he could continue. "It was a sacrifice to a god. The question is to what god, and on what purpose."

"Well, it's definitely not Celtic. It was not an offering to a Fae - the set up does not match the lore." Lydia chimed in.

"Mom?"

"No. Your godmother despises that kind of sacrifice. If one good thing can be said is that she is not involved."

"Should we call Deaton?"

"It's too late." Melissa immediately said. "We'll call him tomorrow. I'll call him."

"OK. Sheriff, do you need to -"

"Go? Yes, it'll be a mess. Chris?"

"I am sure you'll need a weapons expert to match Karahalios."

"Mom, go to sleep - you have a shift tomorrow morning. You need to be rested."

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep after seeing that."

"We'll be up."

"Don't stay up too late."

The adults left.

"What do we know?"

"Hummingbirds. That's what you saw, right, Danny?" Boyd asked him. 

"Yeah. Just that - and clouds, but it started raining, so I don't know if they are related."

"Let's assume they are. Did anyone else see a butterfly?" Scott asked everyone, but they all shook their heads. At Lydia's questioning eyebrow, he continued. "I saw a butterfly in the field when I tried to look for the hummingbirds with my wolf eyes. I couldn't see them, but this butterfly was... shiny. Too shiny."

"We'll look for that too."

"Lydia, Stiles, Danny - you are the best researchers. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Allison, Cora, Derek - with me. We need to do a sweep of the town. Look for any disturbances."

"Erica, Boyd - take the north side of town," Derek started assigning positions, "Allison, Isaac - take the south, go with a car. Cora, Scott - you are the best forest runners, check the preserve. I'll take downtown."

"Good. Let's go."

They all nodded to Scott and ran out. Stiles, Lydia and Danny moved towards the studio, where they kept all their computers. Lydia and Stiles focused on the bestiary, while Danny himself started a web search. 

"No - this is too easy." He'd barely had to do any search at all, when something had popped out. 

"Found something?"

"Well, yeah, but I found it on Wikipedia."

"What? Really?" Stiles flailed his way over to him, looking to the monitor. "Witsi... huistpi... How the hell do you pronounce that?"

"Huitzilopochtli?" Lydia joined them. Stiles glared at her. "What? They have the phonetic alphabet pronunciation right there!"

"I have problems with the 'R'."

"There's no 'R'."

"Can we focus?" Danny was scanning at the info provided on the site, and started taking out key words that he would use in a much deeper search. "Huitzilopochtli," he didn't pronounce it as flawlessly as Lydia did, but it was understandable, "or the Hummingbird from the South. One of the four Aztec Gods that were born out of creation, the god of war and the one that guided the Mexica towards the lake in Mexico Valley, which would become the Great City of Tenochtitlan, now Mexico City."

"Well, he does have hummingbirds."

"Whenever the Mexica would go to war, they'd give the god an offering of beating hearts taken out of prisoners of war, no matter if they were men, women or children. It was considered one of the greatest honors to be sacrificed to him, because the soul would reach ascension immediately instead of taking the journey towards Mictlan, the Aztec land of the dead."

"Well, that matches what we saw."

"I'm still thinking it's too easy."

"Yeah, it does sound too easy. But it's what we have. We should check more on this hummingbird guy."

"He is a god, Stiles." Peter had stayed in the doorway, and everybody jumped at his voice. "You should respect him."

"We still don't know if it was the god who did this. It may have been a believer or something."

"Yes. However, he was summoned. He may be listening."

"Not all the gods are as snivelly as she is, Peter." Lydia retorted, and Danny noticed the way she mentioned someone without using their name. 

"Lydia?"

"Nothing. Well, it's something my grandma has been insisting - that since I am fae, the courts are interested in me.

"Yeah, she thought I was your offering to the Winter Court."

"I'm still sorry about that. Anyways, Grandma thinks that the Winter Court will come to see me flourish as a Banshee, and as a member of it, there's one fae that loves snooping around, trying to gain advantage of whatever she hears."

"Who?"

"The crow, the stag, the wolf. The woman who walks the war lands." Peter answered, looking intently to his mistress.

"Do not say her name."

"Why not?" Stiles looked interested.

"Because she can be summoned with it. And we could do with a little _less_ problems around here."

"Alright. Hummingbirds. Gods of War. This is getting scary."

Danny opened the mini fridge that they kept in the room, getting three Red Bulls out of it. It was going to be a long night.


	4. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to wait until tomorrow to give you guys these two chapters, but I am too excited about them! Hope you guys enjoy them!

He knew he was dreaming. It was quite easy to draw that conclusion, walking in the middle of a cave full of candles - he could barely take a step forward of backwards without risking tumbling onto one of them, and somehow he was sure he was not supposed to do that. 

OK, maybe he was not dreaming - maybe he was doing something else. Like astral walking or something like that. He and Stiles had had that debate one night when they were wondering what powers would be real and what not, when he had finally accepted that he was a werewolf. Somewhere over the summer. Stiles had always wanted to fly. 

He kept on. He knew he needed to reach the middle of the cave, but he didn't know why. He squinted, trying to see all the way through, but there were only candles. So many candles, he never thought he could see so many in one place. And he could hear whispers in the drafts that could form in the cave, so big he wouldn't be surprised if it needed its own weather pattern model. Drafts that wouldn't snuff the candles out. 

A thousand steps later, or maybe just one, he saw his destination. A huge dais in the center, where two persons were sitting down, in what seemed a cavernous version of having coffee in a restaurant. The one on the left he couldn't distinguish, since it was dressed in a black robe that enveloped the whole figure. On the right, on the other hand -

"Mrs. Hale."

"Hello Scott!"

He kept walking until he was in front of them. No matter how close he got, he still couldn't see anything under the robe. Only darkness.

"Godmother?"

The figure nodded. He gulped. 

"Am I dead?"

"No, Scott. You're dreaming."

"OK. Why am I dreaming of this?"

The robed figure looked at Talia, who nodded.

"Your godmother wanted to assure you that the girl's soul, Nina's, is safe. She's moved on."

"The butterfly?"

"See? I told you he was smart."

"Were you there? You knew that was going to happen?"

"She's everywhere and nowhere, Scott. Of course she was there. There was a soul to reap."

"That doesn't help."

"Don't overthink it, Scott. It's something you need to understand if you want her help: it will not be in the ways you'd expect."

"So you are here to help. To help me."

The figure nodded. She stood up and started walking towards him, a photographer analyzing a new model.

"Why can't I see you? Why can't I talk to you?"

"Because she hasn't been welcomed."

Scott tilted his head at Mrs. Hale, who just sipped her coffee. 

"Those who run away from Death are the ones who run into it. Those who welcome it are the ones who can commune with it."

"So? Send an invitation. Do something. I'm scared."

"She already has."

"The mummy?"

"Well, that's something different, but yes, that is also her doing."

"Why did you do it?" Scott faced the robed figure, who kept circling him. It stopped, but didn't say anything. Scott looked back at Derek's mother. "Why are you here with her?"

"Death has been an old friend of the Hales for a long time, Scott. It's a shame we forgot that when she had to reap us."

"I'm pretty sure Derek and Cora don't agree with that statement."

"And I am pretty sure neither does Stiles, Scott, but they've moved on. After all, they all had the opportunity of talking with us."

"Was that Lydia? Was that me? Or was that you?" He directed the last question to his godmother.

"That was entirely you. Well, your pack and the Nemeton. A little taste of the power you wield now."

"The power I'll be judged on."

A draft chilled the room. Death stopped in front of him, and he couldn't help but shiver. There was nothing for him to look at - only darkness.

"Yes. And that's why she wants to help - because as powerful you are, powerful are the judges that are here."

"They are here?"

"They've already begun."

"Nina."

Death nodded. He stood as straight as he could, even if the wolf in him was scared out of all his senses.

He was the alpha. He should not be afraid of asking for it.

"Godmother, please. Help."

Death's arms rose, skeletal hands coming out of the sleeves. They grabbed the hood and lowered it down.

"Mr. McCall!"

Scott jerked up. He was in the middle of AP Calc, and Miss Murrieta was standing next to his seat. He had fallen asleep in the middle of the lecture, and from the looks the pack were giving him none had been able to wake him up before the teacher did. She smiled at him benignly (some of his classmates sniggered) and told him to see her after the class. He looked at the pack, who either shrugged, looked at him like they couldn't believe him, and in the case of Stiles gave him a very sarcastic thumbs up. He had been the only one to fall asleep, even if no one had slept the night before. Lydia glared him into paying attention. 

They had spent the whole weekend looking for clues on the sacrifice they had witnessed Friday. They found nothing in town. Danny and Lydia had had much better luck, having found easily that yes, it had been a sacrifice to an Aztec god, and apparently the game they were playing had been the classic Mesoamerican Ball Game, used by the Aztecs and the Mayan not only to have fun, but to settle wars and honor gods. So the whole thing had been a big "HEY WE ARE HERE" to the Aztec god of war - or at least, that's what the sacrifice had looked like. Either the god of war or the god of rain according to what Danny had uncovered later - both were fond for bleeding hearts. The hummingbirds Danny had seen swayed them towards the god of war, but then it had started raining immediately afterwards. Derek and Chris were still trying to come up with strategies for both cases. 

The question still was who had set up the sacrifice and why. At least now he was sure it had not been his godmother, if his dream had been real and not just his subconscious trying to deal with it. 

"Mr. McCall, what happened?"

"I... didn't have a good weekend?"

"Mr. McCall, you were fast asleep in the middle of the lecture."

"I know, and I'm sorry - I don't know what happened, and I don't know why any of my friends woke me up."

"I'd like to believe it's because my lecture was so compelling, they didn't notice you were asleep."

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

"Which begs the question why it didn't keep your attention."

Scott knew whatever he answered, he would dig himself in a hole and pour the dirt on top of him. 

"I'm sorry, Miss Murrieta, I promise it won't happen again."

"Alright Mr. McCall, I'll give you another chance. Now go - I don't want to write six notes explaining why you and your little clique - wait, Mr. Stilinski calls it 'pack' - are late for class. Shoo."

Scott left the room to find the pack waiting for him outside the door. He knit his brows together, looking back at the classroom, but the teacher was already working on something different on her desk. 

"What?"

"She knew you'd be waiting for me."

"Scott - we move as a unit. The whole school has noticed that." Stiles motioned at them, the way he fell back to Scott's right shoulder, the way Lydia walked to his left, the way Allison and Isaac intertwined each other, the way Danny seemed to be just one step ahead of them. 

"Yeah, but I never thought it'd be too obvious."

"Too obvious? You and Stiles were basically shouting werewolves from the rooftops when you were turned!" Danny had dropped his voice to a hiss, something that they never did. "And besides, we are definitely showing pack behavior."

They sat down at the center table of the cafeteria. Nobody questioned it - the whole student body parted wherever they went. It was the first time Scott actually noticed - it had felt natural the past three weeks. But it was there, the way everybody looked at them, a mixture of reverence and fear. Like everybody knew they were there - they just weren't looking at them. 

"Why?"

"Because we are wolves." Lydia had gotten out her lunch - with so many people around in the manor, they all had duties and lunch making was something Boyd enjoyed to do. Reminded him of the time he spent taking care of his sisters. He had increased the amount of meat and veggies, though, and diminished the amount of grains - it wasn't rare for them to have a salad with chicken or corned beef now. "We've all taken certain... characteristics, ever since you roared us into war against the Warrens. No - since before, definitely since before. I thought you knew that, being capable of telling where we were and stuff." Scott shook his head, and looked at all of them. Stiles shrugged but Danny and Allison were paying Lydia their complete attention. "Look at Stiles, for example. He flails less, his words are more clipped, he circles around us, but always comes back to you."

"That's not wolf behavior." Isaac chimed in.

"No, but it's crow behavior. The crows and the wolves always hunt together. They are great friends. They help each other."

"That... does sound a lot like Stiles and you, Scott." Allison looked at the two of them, where Stiles mouth opened mid chew and then he closed it immediately before anything fell out, while Scott kept looking at the pack, like he was drinking in the new info. "But you haven't changed much, Lyds?"

"Not noticeable, but have you looked at her nails?" Danny grinned, and yes, as soon as Scott paid attention, he could see how they were longer, sharper, more dangerous. 

"I was already a predator. I guess I'm just taking it more seriously." Lydia smiled for a second, but then focused on Scott. "So, why were you asleep today? It's not like the class was boring."

"I dreamed of my godmother."

They all stopped eating. Stiles audibly gulped before opening his mouth again.

"Dude, you serious?"

"You got to see what form she's taking?" Scott shook his head at Lydia. "OK, let's step back. What did you see? What did you learn?"

"She's here."

"Was she responsible for the girl's body?" Stiles interrupted

"No - she wanted to let me know that her soul is safe. And that she is here to help. To help me."

"Well, appearing in dreams is not exactly helping." Isaac deadpanned.

"She can't until she's welcomed."

"What? Why?"

"Those who run from Death are the ones that run into it. Those who welcome it are the ones who can commune with it." Danny answered Isaac. Everybody looked at him. "What? You've all read Harry Potter."

"Yeah, but those are almost the words Mrs. Hale used to describe her."

"Mrs. Hale?" Allison set her fork down. 

"Death was just a robe floating around the cave. Mrs. Hale was the one that talked to me."

"A robe in the cave? Where there candles?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Thousands. Maybe even more."

"That... doesn't make sense. That's German lore. 'Gevatter Tod'."

"Huh?"

"Godfather Death?" Lydia translated.

"Yeah."

"But I thought that was a Grimm Fairy Tale?" Stiles had always been fond of the original Grimm tales - they were more bloody, even if Scott didn't want to hear them when they did story time. "The guy becomes a doctor, he knows when people are going to die, he tries to save the King's heir and in exchange Death takes him away?"

"In order to gain something, an equivalent exchange must be made." Lydia seemed to be quoting something. Both Stiles and Isaac looked at her.

"You watch Fullmetal Alchemist?" They both asked at the same time.

"I read the manga. Focus."

"Lydia - we were almost sure she'd be taking the Latin American form. If she decided to appear to Scott in the German one..."

"We're back to square one."

"We need to welcome her." Scott interrupted them. "She said she's here to help. We are wasting time - this is a game of gods, and we are just... teenagers." He knew his voice was breaking. "All I wanted to do was to get good grades in Math." He sobered before anyone's face could express anything. "So, we're gonna welcome her."

"Scott, technically she is also a deity. How do we know if we're not fighting fire with fire?" Allison took his hand, evidently concerned. Scott shuddered. "How do we know we are not going to make it worse?" 

"Because gods don't care for people, Allison. To them, we are playthings. At least this way we can have one on our side."


	5. The Sheriff

John was looking at the two reports that had been neatly put on his desk. He didn't want to open either of them. 

On top was the forensics analysis of the young girl's body. He knew he had to go through that one quickly - there were piles upon piles of phone calls from news stations, blogs and Youtube channels that wanted to know why had the body of a sixteen year old girl been found alive but dying in the middle of the lacrosse field. The Cyclones were banned from hosting any games until the case was resolved - though Finstock had managed to lobby to keep the team playing in the tournament. He was more concerned about the conspiracy theorists that seemed to be too interested in the fact that the body had appeared out of nowhere according to most witnesses, and as hard as McCall was working his ass off they couldn't seem to be able to set up a decent smoke screen. 

Melissa and Scott had received some random visits of those who had pledged to their court. Amanda Thripp, from the bookstore, had opened her archives to the pack; Ruben Morales, the kids' psychologist, had agreed to Skype sessions just so they didn't have to travel to Chico every week. Even the Martins had mentioned that they would help their daughter, even if they were as baffled as the pack. 

The second was the preliminary report from the archaeologist McCall had brought to look onto the mummy's body. Chris had raised the alarms among the hunter community, but according to them none was supposed to go through Beacon Hills without contacting him and Allison first. If they had managed to uncover his identity then they could trace who was hiding from Allison and Chris in the Argent family. 

"Stilinski?"

John looked up to find Karahalios standing on his doorway. His face was dark and somber - it even brought down the cheeriness of the pink pants and the checkered bow tie he was wearing. 

"Have you read the reports?"

"And why would you have access to them, Karahalios?"

"I don't. But I have some abilities that McCall shuns." John raised his eyebrow. "I listen. If you pay attention, you can hear people talking."

"And what have you heard?"

"Male, thirty-five. Handsome. Carrying a standard weapon."

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Well, as much as you Americans love your guns, this town seems to actually be not too fond of them. Not a lot of people own a gun around here. Mostly the cops."

"True."

"Which means the corpse is either one of yours, or one of McCall's."

"No one is missing in my roster." Karahalios just nodded. 

But John started a mental tally of everyone either in his office, or brought by McCall. He had a very good memory of faces, even if he didn't remember all the names, and it only took him a minute to realize only one person had not showed up since the mummy had appeared in the middle of Mapleton Street.

"De la Plata." Karahalios frowned, as if trying to associate the name with a face. 

"The man that was with me during the weapons evaluation?"

"Yes. That one."

"Yeah... I haven't seen him since. Odd." Karahalios kept looking at the ceiling, thinking. "De la Plata, huh? How interesting that the name means the same as your buddy's, Argent."

"Silver."

"Not to accuse everyone with that surname, but it definitely would mark their lack of creativity if it was an identity and that was just a hunter infiltrating the FBI." Karahalios chuckled at the joke, until he looked at John. "But you already knew he was a hunter."

"We found the Argent family crest with the body."

"So it is a hunter. How... unimaginative. And why would a hunter be mummified in the middle of town? More important, why would a hunter infiltrate the FBI?"

"I don't know the answer to either question."

"But you do have a suspect."

"On who did the mummification? Yes. On the motive? No idea."

"Hm." Karahalios lingered at the door, and John could see the gears in his head moving. He wondered what sort of logic leaps would a mind of two thousand years do with the information he had. "So there's a hunter infiltrating the FBI's department of the supernatural when he is conducting an investigation against you. But from what you say, the Argent branch of the Werewolf Hunters that reside here was not aware of his presence. Either he was here to warn you of something, or to attack you. If the former, he was killed to prevent reaching you with that information. If the latter, he was killed as a favor to you." John had thought the same - after all, if Death was supposed to be Scott's Godmother and she was here to help, removing someone who might have trying to murder him would be something she'd do. "However, why wouldn't the Argents just pick up the phone and contact the matriarch? That makes me wonder if he was not here to work _against_ you."

John didn't say anything. It was fascinating, seeing Karahalios work all the details by himself. They said that age brought wisdom, and this boy certainly showed it.

"Which means that I have totally underestimated you. You have powerful friends if they are willing to kill for you without letting you know. Because that means they sit outside the rules of men."

"Like you."

Karahalios opened his mouth, half in awe and half in concern. But then he shook his head, a smirk in his lips. "No matter. This is your fight. I am not getting involved. Thank you, Sheriff."

"For what?"

"For talking to me. I said so, before: I like you. You remind me a lot of my first mentor. He truly had an ugly nose, you know? Then he had to go and kill himself to make a point. Anyways, good day to you."

Karahalios left the room as McCall appeared in the doorway. He looked at him with his brows knit, but turned to the Sheriff. 

"Stilinski."

"McCall. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if we could talk about the corpse in the lacrosse field."

"I haven't read the report."

"You've been dreading it too, huh?"

"She was sixteen, McCall. Of course I have." He may not like the man, but at least he could rest assured that he was not a monster if he was also disturbed by the way they had found the girl. 

Nina Patil. It had been absolute torture calling her parents: they were the owners of an antique store in the mall, that dealt with weapons. They said that she had left for school that morning and that's when they had last seen them. As far as he knew, neither were involved in the supernatural, so they couldn't flat out tell them what had really happened. Though the media was doing a great job of creating hysteria among the population that were not related to the supernatural. The mother had cried for what seemed hours when they finally gave them the body. 

"She was still alive when she was found, according to the report. She was heavily drugged and her heart was removed clinically while it was still beating. It may be possible that the drug may have slowed her pulse and that's why she was still alive when it happened."

"For how long?"

"No more than a couple of minutes."

"Do we know if she suffered?"

"Probably not. They are still trying to identify what kind of drug it was, but she was probably too out of it to actually feel pain." John rubbed his face with his hands, trying to hide the frustration he was feeling. When he looked back at McCall, the man was smiling the saddest smile John had seen in his life. "This is the part where you ask me how I do it."

"I'm not going to do that. It's become obvious that this is the reason why you left."

"Well, not the reason why I left, but definitely the reason why my marriage soured. I wanted to keep them safe. I never wanted them to get in the middle of it."

"And looked how that turned out."

For a moment, both men shared a silent plea, trying not to let out their emotions regarding their children. But then both blinked and got to work.

"The most interesting part was the removal of the heart."

"How is that so?"

"The cuts were better than surgical."

"What do you mean?"

"The blade they used was sharper than a scalpel."

"How?"

"We don't know. They are analyzing some of the tissue, trying to see if there's a remainder of it in the wound." John sighed. "What do you think?" John looked at McCall. The man was not being his usual obnoxious self - it seemed that he really wanted to hear his opinion. 

Or his actual knowledge. 

"I don't know how much I can tell you. We are looking into it - and from what we've gathered, it was a ritual sacrifice."

"Yeah, well, that's obvious, with the altar and all the shit around it." McCall frowned at the desk. "I'm going through the lores that I was taught in the academy."

"We're thinking Aztec."

"The god of rain?"

"Or the god of war."

McCall kept thinking. "I'll call Melissa and ask for her permission."

"I'll tell her tonight. I'm having dinner with her." Something went through Rafael's face, but left just as quickly. 

"Alright." Rafael stood up and went towards the exit. "I know I don't need to tell you this, but treat her well."

"Of course." The agent nodded and left the room. John grabbed the report on De la Plata - he wanted to see what he could tell McCall about his agent, though he suspected Karahalios would talk to him. 

His cellphone rang.

"Melissa? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just calling to tell you I won't be able to go to dinner with you today - I got an email from Scott's math teacher. He fell asleep in class."

"He what?"

"I know. It seems that she really wants to talk about his progress and, honestly? Better to see her now than when everything is going to hell. For all we know she may die."

"That's pessimistic."

"I know. I'm sorry. Don't stay in the office. Go home, have something, I'll reach you guys as soon as I'm done with this."

"Alright. Love you."

"Love you too."


	6. Melissa

Melissa knocked on the door. The counselor had insisted in meeting her, and right now she'd rather get rid of it instead of creating a situation where she'd be called to go to the school in the middle of a supernatural emergency. 

"Come in!"

She opened the door to find a cluttered office and a pretty woman behind her desk.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Melissa McCall, Scott's mom? You sent me an email earlier today? Sorry to drop in unannounced but with my schedule I don't know when I'd have time to see you."

"Oh, yes! Yes! Please, close the door."

Melissa did, something nagging in her mind. She was about to sit down when she realized what it was: the marigolds on the talavera vase, the crystal hourglass, the black notebook barely visible under the stacks and stacks of papers. The apple in the woman's hands. 

She turned back, but she found herself no longer in the school counselor's office. She was standing in a stone dais in the middle of a cave, where thousands upon thousands of candles were lit on the floor, on the walls, on the rocks that acted as tables. 

Of course she wanted to meet her. 

"Sebastiana."

" _Hola comadre. Hasta que te apareces. Ven y sientate, por favor._ "

Melissa turned and saw that the woman was sitting behind a dining table, filled to the brim with food she remembered from her childhood: mole, romeritos, birria, pescado zarandeado. Pan de muerto, mueganos, calaveras de azucar y de chocolate. Cafe de olla, tequila, pulque, mezcal. While a moment ago she'd been wearing a pretty floral dress now she was dressed with a white dress and a rainbow _rebozo_ that covered her shoulders. Cempoales adorned the table as well as her hair, and the smile she flashed was warm and welcoming. 

She knew she had no option but to sit down. 

"Please, eat." Her Spanish was melodic and sweet, and Melissa thought of her grandmother singing lullabies.

"I'm not hungry." Melissa thought she spoke in English, but Spanish is what left her mouth. She really wasn't, and yet found herself grabbing a plate with what looked like liver and onions on it. She also grabbed a clay jar with coffee and sipped it. The tequila in it burned the back of her throat.

"Fine. Hope you don't mind?" The teacher - or was it the deity? - served herself some food and started eating. 

"So, how are you? I haven't seen you for seventeen years. Sorry that I haven't kept in touch."

"To be honest, I didn't think you would."

"Ah, that's right. You didn't believe in me." Melissa widened her eyes in horror, feeling an accusation in the tone. "No, no, no, totally understandable. Most people don't - their words carry into the wind and they hope for something to answer them, even if they don't believe in it. You heard the doctor said that he was recovering and started crying, thinking that perhaps the god of your parents had answered, or any of the saints, or maybe a force you didn't comprehend. You forgot that for a moment you asked me to be his godmother, thinking that if I deigned to take him under my wing I would not claim him so young."

"Why? Why did you do it? So he'd grow up to become this?"

"Excuse me?"

"You exist beyond time and space. You knew he was going to be bitten, and he was going to end up guarding that cursed tree, and he was going to end up suffering because of it. You... Is that the price? Did you keep him alive so he could become the guardian of the Nemeton? Why? He's just a child! He's not supposed to suffer like this!"

Sebastiana looked at her, surprise and horror etched on her features.

"You think all of this is because of me?" Melissa nodded. 

Sebastiana laughed, throwing her head back and letting the sound escape her throat in a raspy fashion. When she finished she grabbed the tequila bottle and poured herself a shot, and after downing that she took a cigarette out - Melissa immediately recognized the box, it had been one of her offerings, just like the bottle, little gifts she left at the church in Los Angeles trying to appease her, to prevent her from coming - and lit it. She offered one to Mel, but she declined. 

"He was such a frail little thing, wasn't he?" Melissa nodded, knowing what she meant. "Do you know how many children are born before their time, and go through the same things your son did? Thousands. How many have residual effects from it such as asthma? Many. To me, your son was just another wail in the background, another poor soul that was going to wander through the gates at some point. It was not him who attracted me, Melissa, but _you_. That day, when you called, I could hear you from all around the world. A mother weeping for her son. Not because she wanted a son to keep her husband by her side - good riddance by the way - or because she wanted a son to keep her company. No. You were crying because you wanted to give him a chance in this world. You wanted to see him happy. To see him live, to see him true, to see him whole. You called me in the middle of the day, when everybody who does hides in the veils of night. You called me for a selfless reason, when selfish are the ones that murmur my names. You didn't want money, or protection, or luck. You just wanted a blessing, and so I blessed him."

Melissa looked at her, not sure what she was hearing.

"When you explained yourself to me, I felt honored. Honored that such a wonderful woman would ask me to be her _comadre_ , the most powerful of the names I can be named. And I wanted to make sure that you would be happy with it, you know? I looked at him and all I saw was a man. Of all the universes around him, of all the decisions he could make, the most extraordinaire one was to become the new Hale emissary, guided by Alan Deaton's hand. Oh, I know about him and I've had a word with him, don't worry about it. Your son was nothing special, no destiny, no fates, no fanfare, nothing to worry about, and so I knew that by blessing him with one kiss all I would do was to give him the chance to fight. I think he knew, so little, that you wanted him to live because he clung to it. And coughing and wheezing and panting he stayed alive. And when I saw you smile I considered myself paid and left you, content, without the need to see you again until your candle was out and you had to come with me."

"Then what changed? What happened?"

"Katherine Argent."

The words had left her mouth enveloped in smoke, and for a moment she looked like the skeleton Melissa had seen in all the figurines. In all her nightmares.

"What?"

"The Hale fire was not supposed to happen, Melissa. Such a powerful family, honor bound to these lands, guarding them from every invader that came through their borders. The lands protected them. Those woods that cling to you like children, they were supposed to alert them from any intruder willing to come to them and kill them. But she knew. She fooled them by fooling the young wolf, and staying away from them whenever she was plotting against them. She destroyed the Hale family, and by doing that she ripped a hole in the mere fabric of reality. I couldn't help but stare when I came to collect their souls, all my books altered, all the candles going off at the same time, like darkness enveloping their wall. Most people marvel at earthquakes and plane crashes but true catastrophes are usually hidden under the whispers of those who gossip about their victims."

"A hole in reality?"

"Yes."

"What...?"

"Magic, leaking out everywhere. The Nemeton was woken, and now that there were no guardians, its magic started rippling through. How do you think Lydia's pet survived? Because he clung to life, yes, but life that was tethered by magic. Unbound, unstable, unanchored, just like the Nemeton. And then the unexpected happen."

"Unexpected?" Melissa didn't know how something could be unexpected among all the things she was listening. She felt her chest tight, her hands clenched, like the worst was yet to come. The woman in front of her smiled and poured her another shot of tequila.

"Drink that." Melissa did. "Your son. Your son happened. Your wonderful son stepped up and started stitching the hole closed with his own hands.

"How?"

"By being himself. By resisting Peter's siren song. By refusing to kill with him, to bathe in blood with him, to subjugate to him and be a beta to his twisted demonic version of an Alpha. By standing up to Derek and his poor anger management crash of a pack that he built, all ready to destroy a little girl just because her blood decided it didn't want to howl at the moon. By knocking at my door and looking at me in the eyes and knowing that no matter what he had to rescue you, because you are the world to him just like he is the world to you. The Nemeton was being bound by a woman lost in her revenge, and yet this young man gave his life so he could know where it was and stop her from killing you. I was standing right next to you, you know? Ready to walk you to the next plane. Seeing you flirt with your knight, and girl it took you two too long to get your act together. Even gray eyes knew you two were a thing, you know?" Even with all the fear she felt Melissa couldn't help but blush at her words. "And then, your son called me. Your sons. And the girl. Your daughter.

"Again, fascinating, watching their trials. There was nothing against them, only their true desire to protect those who can't protect themselves. Guardians. The Nemeton couldn't ask for anyone else. So it gave him its powers. And if they couldn't surprise me anymore, they rejected them. They just wanted your location. The Walker certainly overdid it with that - they could've done a tracking spell, I doubt the Darach was fully shielding your position. And your son raised to the challenge. Your son finally decided to affront the girl, to protect the wolves, to protect the pack. To be an alpha. A True Alpha."

"A thing of legends."

"Now you see why I couldn't wait to meet him? I had to get my affairs in order, and it was interesting to see what he was doing with the whole mess those witches brought upon you. Again, so selfless - they were all willing to give up, to die, because they didn't think themselves worthy. But when you called? When there was a slight chance that you could be in danger? They took the power and used it. To protect. A thing of legends indeed."

"So that's it? You are just going to pretend to be his math teacher and then go? You are not here to reap him, or any of the pack? Collect from me?"

"Didn't you listen to me? You've paid me when you smiled that night seventeen years ago, Mel. Besides, we are _comadres_ , even if I've neglected my role for so long - I'm here to remedy that. No need to fear me. Besides, now that they hold the powers of Old Gods, well, the Old Gods are watching."

"Judgement."

"Yes."

"You judged the Hales."

"A long time ago. A different form ago."

"What was it? Your trial?"

"It wouldn't matter. Whatever the new judges choose to do, they'll definitely won't do what I did."

"Did they pass?"

"Only one. Victor Hale, was his name. He was a good friend when I claimed him, we chatted for quite a while."

"Did he stall you?"

"Oh no, he was ready to go. He just wanted to show me the pictures of his family. Which reminds me, when am I going to be invited to your household? I want the whole tour and all the baby pictures you can throw at me."

Melissa couldn't help but grin - the way Sebastiana acted reminded her of grandmother and how she would talk with one of her friends - Marisol, if she remembered correctly. Yes, Tia Marisol - Raul's godmother. Melissa's granddmother's _comadre_.

"You are still afraid of me. And it's fair - I haven't given you a reason not to, and I didn't keep my side of the bargain. You raised him on your own and did a magnificent job. All I did was send him a pair of presents for which I haven't been properly thanked."

"Where would we send the 'Thank you, Card' though? Hell?"

"Their graves would've been fine."

But Sebastiana's smile was warm and comforting, not cold and detached like the teeth ligned up in the skulls made her believe. Melissa was still scared, was still afraid for her son, her _children_ , and yet, she knew that the White Lady never lied. Or at least, she would never lie to her comadre. 

"Comadre, would you like to come home and meet your godson?"

"It would be an honor, _comadre_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be my favorite chapter so far, out of all the things I've written for this series.


	7. Scott

"A Grimm fairy tale? Are you sure?" Danny nodded. "Stiles, give me your phone."

"Why me?" Stiles handed Erica his phone. 

"Stiles, stop whining."

Erica started tapping furiously on the screen while Stiles stuck his tongue out to Lydia. Everybody but the Sheriff and his mother were there - Monday nights the Sheriff always took his mom to dinner. It was the only time he could get away with eating burgers and curly fries without Stiles breathing down his neck and Scott knew his mom loved getting milkshakes from the diner. The pack usually had dinner altogether unless something happened or in the case of Lydia and Danny, if their parents wanted to see them. Obviously, the state of things right now made them want to stick together as much as possible. 

"Erica, what are you looking for?" Allison asked the blonde from across the room. As much as they interacted now, living in the same house, Scott knew there was still some reticency between them, and the same for Allison and Boyd. He didn't know what he could do about it.

"One sec." Erica raised a finger. "Here. 'Macario', a novel by German author B. Traven, tells the story of a woodcutter in colonial Mexico, so poor he once swore he would not eat again unless he could eat a whole turkey himself. His wife stole one and cook it for him and he, in desperation, went into the woods to eat it."

"Stop. You've gotta be kidding me." Cora looked at Erica like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Oddly enough, Derek had a similar look on his face. "You are going to say next that he faced God, the Devil and Death?"

"Yes? How did you know that?"

"Because that's the story Grandma used to tell us. To explain how the guardians of the Nemeton work."

"Yeah, I remember you said that." Danny piped in. "A body, a mind, a soul. Scott, Allison, Stiles."

"A man stole a loaf of bread from the richest man in town. He ran away with it so he could eat it alone. First, he encountered God, who asked him for a piece of it. He denied him because he wanted to be selfish once. Then he encountered the Devil but he denied it by making sure the Devil could not meet his price."

"Not exactly the way this story goes, though. In here he encounters first the Devil, and then God, and he denies them both because they can get the turkey themselves, while he can't."

"Small difference. What matters is that the third person to meet him is Death, and he decides to share with him."

" _Whenever you appear, there is no time for anything else._ "

"OK, hold on," Scott raised his hands and everybody looked at him, "I'm getting a little bit lost."

"It's the same story. It's the story of the guardians of the Nemeton." Derek said.

"And it's also a Mexican folk tale. Well, an adaptation of one - even if it was not originally from Mexico, it was taken by the population and its part of the culture. They even made a movie about it - according to Wikipedia, it was nominated to an Oscar and stuff."

"How did you know about it?" Cora asked Erica.

"One of the books I read while in the hospital."

"So she can take that form in the lore. It is a Latin American version, after all." Chris Argent commented. "Together with the mummy being so similar to the ones in that museum, and the fact that Melissa was following her grandmother's teaching when she prayed pretty much confirms that we are facing the form of the White Girl."

"Did mom really say that? That Death is a friend of the family?" Derek looked at Scott. He just nodded. The werewolf looked at his hands, like he was questioning something in his mind. Scott stood up and went straight to him, and grabbed his hand.

"Hey. It's not like being dead is good for them, OK? It's just that, well, Hales accepted Death, right? I mean, Death is what judged them. You can't run away from Death, you have to accept it." Derek nodded again, but Scott could smell the disappointment in his beta. Scott just combed Derek's hair with his hand. "Which is why we need to welcome her."

"If she's been here already, what do we need to do?" Isaac asked.

"Well, from what we've found, there are several ways to pray to her. Most people like getting a figurine and adorning it with the color of the favor they are asking for." Stiles said.

"Do we really want to have a skeleton figurine in the house?" Isaac replied.

"What about if we built an _altar de muertos_?" Scott interjected before they got into one of their sass battles. "It's the standard thing done to honor the dead in Mexico. Grandma used to talk about them."

"But wouldn't that be done for a dead person? Would we honor her or insult her by building one for her?" Lydia asked him. Scott just shrugged. 

"What if Melissa prays to her again? She heard her once, maybe she can hear her again?" Allison offered. Everybody agreed that that could be a good idea. "Then let's wait for her and John to come back." They all nodded and started eating again. 

The front door opened and The Sheriff came in. Alone.

"Hey guys!"

"Hey dad! Where's Melissa?"

"Oh, she mentioned she had to go to the school. Apparently Scott fell asleep during Math?"

"What? She called my mom?"

"Emailed her, apparently."

"But, it's the first time I've done that. And it wasn't that bad - I was still able to answer most of her questions."

"Wait, you fell asleep during class?" Derek asked. "Isaac, did you too? Anyone else?"

"No."

"No - why?" Danny asked.

"Because he's the alpha." Cora answered. "If anyone would have the stamina to keep running all weekend would be _him_."

"But he fell asleep because Death wanted to contact him, right?" Stiles looked at Derek. "It was a magically induced dream?"

"But why in Math? Why not in History? Why not in Ethics?"

"Scott, you said you couldn't see her in your dream?" Lydia asked, voice raising in the chromatic scale.

"All I could see was a black robe, and darkness."

"At no point she let you see beneath it?" Chris asked. 

"Guys, what's going?" The Sheriff asked loudly.

"When I woke up, her hands - skeleton fingers - lowered it."

"But why did you wake up?" Isaac asked.

"Because Miss Murrieta called my name. But she smells human! Danny saw her human!"

"And her name is Sebastiana, and she has a marigold in her desk. Damn it, she's been right here all the time!" Lydia looked like she wanted to hit herself.

"Wait, back up, what? Miss Murrieta is Death?" Stiles' eyes were as wide as saucers. Scott got his phone out and dialed, but his mom wouldn't pick up.

"She's not picking up." Everybody was already standing up and getting ready, but suddenly, Erica and Boyd stood straight, looking at the front door.

"Guys?"

"She's here." 

"What? Her? Here?" Stiles flailed into the floor. Scott was the closest at the door, but stopped when he heard the key enter the lock. Stiles and Allison immediately behind him. Isaac behind Allison. Lydia next to Stiles. Danny at his level, in front of Isaac. Derek and Cora behind Danny. Erica and Boyd didn't move, but their position was at the edges, the first to attack if needed. The Sheriff and Mr. Argent behind Scott, slightly to his right, an empty space between them - where his mother would stand were she there. 

The knob in the front door turned. Everybody stood up a little straighter. The wolves were ready to attack. 

But when it opened, only his mom entered. She smiled at them for a second, stopping at the formation.

"Mom?"

"It's alright. It's OK." She stepped forward, taking her position between her knights. 

But the door had been left open. And in it, a female form appeared.

"Miss Murrieta?"

The woman was dressed differently than they had seen her in school. She was wearing a purple dress, the skirt of it adorned with white lilies that trailed onto the floor. The heels were purple as well, straps adorning her feet. The corset was tight, and the blazer on top of it complemented the outfit. The hat on her head was dapper, wide and adorned with peacock feathers. Her hands were gloved and carried a hand fan that was folded at the moment. She was smiling, and with her smile the room seemed to be more illuminated, with white and yellow and gold and blue. Just by looking at her, Scott felt more calm, like worries could be forgotten and he could take a second to breathe. 

A second to live. 

"Please, Scott, call me Sebastiana. I am, after all, your godmother."


	8. Epilogue

Alexandros hated walking at night without a weapon, but the persona of Seneca didn't have a tendon slashed because of a wolf attack, so his canes had to stay at home. 

Three months into his partnership with McCall, and things had started to go to shit as soon as the school year begun. He was able to sniff out the hunter that tried to infiltrate as FBI Agents, but then he had to drop like a fly, and it all screamed supernatural, but it couldn't be pinpointed to anyone. The children were roaming trying to find out the guilty parties, but then the sacrifice showed up, and Alexandros started ruing the fact that he didn't consort with any of the Mexica people before. 

It all smelled of the hummingbird. He was stirring war. He would wake up the Morrigan if he was not stopped, and at the moment that was not convenient for Alexandros. He needed to make sure what side would the Phantom Queen take in the oncoming war - he suspected she'd follow The Risen King, but he didn't know what side would _he_ take. First, he needed to figure out what sides were playing in this war. 

But if it truly was him... Alexandros shuddered. There was not much that could be done to stop the hummingbird when he looked to stir up trouble. After all, that's what had destroyed their empire before. 

"You lonely tonight, love?" The sound surprised him. He had been living in Beacon Hills for a while now and he wasn't sure there was a red light district in the town, but in front of him there was a prostitute, holding a red rose, dressed to the nines in a leather miniskirt and a black longsleeve. The heels were black and high, and the small headband on her hair gave her an air of innocence that contrasted with the killer lipstick on her face. "Why would such a handsome fella be alone in a night like this?"

"I don't know. Maybe nobody loves me."

He hadn't looked to get laid particularly - it was such a recent custom, to honor Eros in February - but he supposed he could offer a night of sex to him, maybe even to Aphrodite herself and hopefully gain some clarity in his love life. 

Well, fuck, he _still_ missed Danny, and it had been months of even talking to him, now. 

"Oh, I am sure somebody loves you. Maybe I'll love you tonight." She was good. She was really good. She was navigating very easily between the sweet child and the seductress persona, and he couldn't help but fall in lust a little bit with her. After all that had happened, maybe a good fuck would help him clear his mind. "What do you think, love? Do you want me to love you tonight?"

"I don't know. What kind of love do you offer?"

"What kind of love do you want? Sweet? Sour? Long and tender? Or quick and raw?" She started circling him and with each of her questions she had made some rather indecorous movements, the rose changing from hand to hand as she used them to emulate what she could do to him if he were to follow her. It started to sound interesting, and seldom was he surprised - he was old, after all. 

And yet, Beacon Hills had surprised him so much lately. 

"I don't know what I'm in the mood for. It's been a while since I've shared bed with a girl."

"But not with a boy? Would you like me to turn backwards, and play pretend?"

"No. Not in the mood for a boy tonight."

"Oh. Did a boy break your heart?"

"I broke his. He crushed mine in return."

"Sounds fair."

"It totally was. Doesn't mean my heart won't ache for him."

"Maybe I'll make you forget."

"Maybe you'll make me remember."

"Aw, sweet boy. Your heart is truly broken." She extended the rose to him, and without thinking, he took it.

Except, it was not a rose. It was a marigold.

A golden marigold.

_Well, shit_.

"Niña." He knew that he had to address her with that name - any other would give her power over him. That was the only one that addressed their reality - that he was older than she was. At least, older than this form - her true nature was older than time itself. 

"Carroñero. What is a bird such as you doing in a town such as this?" Her Spanish was melodic, like a song, like a river flowing in the meadow. "There's not much for you to feast on."

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just waiting for the flesh to start showing up so I can feast in it."

"Keep lying to yourself. You are not."

He knew he couldn't lie to her. No one can lie in the end, after all. 

"But you, my girl, what are you doing here? What makes you take a physical form around here? What's so fascinating about this town? It's not the Sanctum - you exist outside time and space, such trifles are not of concern to you."

"I have my reasons. Very good reasons."

"The Risen King."

"What makes you think that?"

"This form. The patron saint of the forgotten. The ones who hide in the night. The Godmother."

"You know your lore. You never walked my lands until recently."

"It's hard to miss you south of here. You seem to be quite popular."

"My children love me much. I love them back."

"Even when they ask you to snuff the candles of those who do not agree with them?"

"Everybody dies eventually. Well, except for you. You keep refusing me again and again."

"Me? Refusing you? You are the one who won't take me!"

"That's not true. Everytime Charon dragged his ferry for you, you've refused him. He'd been willing to take you without payment - more than a hundred years you've wandered - and yet you would walk away from Acheron. I could take you, right now. If you want." She extended her hand in offering. Alexandros looked at it, fearful.

He knew she had the power. He could die, right there, no questions asked. His journey would be over, he could finally see his mother again. He could see Laika one more time. Or maybe he could just be reborn and forget two thousand years of existence. 

He wanted to laugh. This had been what he been looking for ever since he found out being immortal meant being lonely. 

And yet, he stepped back. 

"See? Always afraid of death. Always afraid of _me_."

"What do you want, Sebastiana?"

"Tut-tut, don't disrespect me." She may be dressed like a hooker, but he could see the shadows around her form a long robe around her figure. "Just because you can refuse me doesn't mean I can't hurt you. After all, everything dies: riches, influence. _Love_." Alexandros knelt and muttered an apology - he knew better than to go angering gods. She reached a hand through his hair. "I've never understood you, Carroñero. You have everything you need and yet nothing you want."

"You took her away from me."

"It was her time."

"Then why it wasn't mine?"

"Because yours was long before."

"I can refuse you. So what? It's not like I have any power over you."

"And yet you are trying. Be careful, boy. Nemain will not be as forgiving as I am." She started retreating into the night, but Alexandros stopped her with one question.

"Why are you here?"

She looked up, at the moon. Under its light, she looked different: the flesh decayed, the bones showing, her skirt a rhumba of snakes and her jewelry a collection of skulls.

"Because old gods live in his blood, and they've drunk the power he took. And _we_ want _more!_ " She shook her head and she looked like the prostitute again. "Because they want more. I am here to help him."

"The hummingbird. The feathered snake. The flayed man."

"And the lord of smoke and mirrors. They are all here. And my godson won't see what hit him until it's too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of the episode. I hope you are liking it as much as I am. 
> 
> Remember you can reach me at alan713ch.tumblr.com
> 
> Cheers everyone!


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